Page 53 - The Kite Runner

42 Khaled Hosseini

san had pulled the wide elastic band all the way back. In the cup
was a rock the size of a walnut. Hassan held the slingshot pointed
directly at Assef’s face. His hand trembled with the strain of the
pulled elastic band and beads of sweat had erupted on his brow.
“Please leave us alone, Agha,” Hassan said in a flat tone. He’d
referred to Assef as “Agha,” and I wondered briefly what it must
be like to live with such an ingrained sense of one’s place in a
hierarchy.
Assef gritted his teeth. “Put it down, you motherless Hazara.”
“Please leave us be, Agha,” Hassan said.
Assef smiled. “Maybe you didn’t notice, but there are three of
us and two of you.”
Hassan shrugged. To an outsider, he didn’t look scared. But
Hassan’s face was my earliest memory and I knew all of its subtle
nuances, knew each and every twitch and flicker that ever rippled
across it. And I saw that he was scared. He was scared plenty.
“You are right, Agha. But perhaps you didn’t notice that I’m
the one holding the slingshot. If you make a move, they’ll have to
change your nickname from Assef ‘the Ear Eater’ to ‘One-Eyed
Assef,’ because I have this rock pointed at your left eye.” He said
this so flatly that even I had to strain to hear the fear that I knew
hid under that calm voice.
Assef’s mouth twitched. Wali and Kamal watched this
exchange with something akin to fascination. Someone had chal-
lenged their god. Humiliated him. And, worst of all, that someone
was a skinny Hazara. Assef looked from the rock to Hassan. He
searched Hassan’s face intently. What he found in it must have
convinced him of the seriousness of Hassan’s intentions, because
he lowered his fist.
“You should know something about me, Hazara,” Assef said
gravely. “I’m a very patient person. This doesn’t end today, believe